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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28136739">Good Evening</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/crepuscularvoid/pseuds/ethmisvoid'>ethmisvoid (crepuscularvoid)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Ethmis Chronicles [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Ethmis Chronicles, Original Work</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>AU, Ethmis, Ethmis Chronicles - Freeform, Fairy, Idk how to tag original works, Just needed somewhere to publish original stuff, Loose Interpretation of Fairies, Magic, Magnolia Drake - Freeform, Original Story - Freeform, Original work - Freeform, PTSD, Pre-Cannon, TW: Description of injuries, Theo is sad, Theodore Carter - Freeform, fae, origin, revival, theo - Freeform, tw: mention of suicide</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 15:08:54</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,689</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28136739</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/crepuscularvoid/pseuds/ethmisvoid</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Some Pre-Cannon work for an original story, Ethmis Chronicles, featuring primary antagonist Theodore Carter.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Ethmis Chronicles [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2061315</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Good Evening</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>brief reminder that there is a sensitivity warning for allusion to s*icide and descriptions of pain/injury, please be mindful if that bothers you!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>Upon opening his eyes, he was assaulted by brightness. Everything was white. Like a camera lens, his eyes adjusted to the flood of light, blurring and focusing until he could see figures. Blank, empty walls lit with hueless lamps, hardly creased sheets, and pale skin that appeared to be his own. </p><p> </p><p>Memories of before he woke eluded him, but he knew they were there, wading in some foggy tide, and that they would greet him soon. There was a lot he had to process. And yet, not much to see- a cast iron bed frame, a mirror too high for him to see himself in bed, white linoleum walls and floors. Without turning his head or moving his eyes from where he lay prone, it already felt like a hospital.</p><p> </p><p>Senses arrived in waves, his memories still a bit deeper than he could reach. As his eyes settled into their new stimulus, he heard the shuffle of feet and chatter beyond the door in the far right corner of the room and a repetitive beeping- or maybe a few different sets of beeping, from monitors on his left. At least one of them was his heartbeat. Aside from the distinct scent of chemicals and floor cleaner, there wasn’t much else he could take in about his setting.</p><p> </p><p>Then, his sense of feeling. Clearly, he was too tall for the bed; his ankles hung well over the bottom edge and met cool air. From his toes to his forehead he felt a dull throb of something similar to pain. What he felt in his arm, down his back, and around his neck, though, was definitely pain. There were a few little tubes in his left forearm, streaming blood and two different clear fluids. He couldn’t tell whether the tubes were taking the liquid away or depositing them, but the length of his forearm was throbbing. The pain around his neck and down his back was not continuous, but residual. On his left cheek, and a handful of areas scattered along his skin was a tingling sensation he could only compare to an itch. He sighed and felt his bones all creak like an old building with a poor foundation.</p><p> </p><p>Only when he had reached this state, and with most of his senses now accounted for, did he remember why he was here.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> It didn’t work? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Wherever he was, he didn’t want to be there. As he stirred, more memories came in onslaughts of nausea and churning in his gut. They came in a supercut, too fast for him to pick out images and paired with a sound that resembled microphone feedback. He forced himself to sit upright, groaning aloud as the injury in his back protested. Around his neck, he understood the source of the sting; but he hadn’t a clue why his back hurt so terribly. It wasn’t quite his spine, but two lines on either side running liquid fire parallel to it, the dormant pain stirring the moment he moved.</p><p> </p><p>To his relief, there was no new pain accompanying his legs swinging over the side of the bed once he had adjusted to his back. He looked down at his clothes, a simple gray loose pair of pants and a t-shirt, like pajamas. The tubes in his arms swung and tapped each other. Wherever he was going to go, he didn’t want the rattling IV stand with him. </p><p> </p><p>“<em> Shit,” </em>he swore through gritted teeth. His voice was raw. One by one, he pulled out the tubes, wincing at each of the three, and set them to drip into his bed under his pillow. </p><p> </p><p>After a few heavy breaths, he pushed himself off of the bed and his bare feet hit the frigid tile. Straightening his posture with caution, he chewed into his lip to avoid the searing pain along his back. It left him as a hiss, and he forced himself to walk forward, one unsure step after another. Halfway to the door, he leaned against the wall for support. But he allowed himself some confidence. The dizziness was fading, and his legs weren’t injured, but rusted from laying in bed; however long he had been doing so. </p><p> </p><p>The mirror he had seen earlier was high off the ground, but his height made up for it, allowing him to see up to his chin. He didn’t see a reflection he recognized, but some strange, abstract version of what must be himself. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Did I do this?  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Though his face itself didn’t look much different, his once light brown hair was a muddled combination of white and gray. From a matching brown, his eyes were now some indiscernible shade of green, with the light translucency of sea glass. They were too bright.</p><p> </p><p>More curious than disturbed, he ran a hand through his tangled curls and tried to watch himself blink. There was something else- on his left cheek, there was a peculiar black mark. It was as if someone tested a dry marker, with dark lines starting at his jaw and fading as they crossed his cheek; the scratchy pattern clearly dug into his skin. Upon running his fingers over the few inches of skin, the gritty sandpaper texture gave him chills. It probably should’ve hurt, and it did itch, but he was afraid that the brittle skin might chip right off.</p><p> </p><p>As blood rushed down through his legs for the first time in… some amount of time, he willed himself to continue towards the door. He reached for the cold handle and swung the door open, met with a long hallway of more white linoleum tiles. Completely empty. </p><p>The more he walked, the more momentum built until his pace was nearly normal for a man who woke up moments ago. Passing through swinging double doors, he wasn’t sure how to react to seeing a few people walk by him. They paid him no mind, clearly all occupied with getting themselves or equipment somewhere.</p><p> </p><p>It was only when he left the long hall into a reception room, with waiting chairs and a desk with attendees in the center, that he caught a few odd glances. For the first time, he noticed windows- there was a horizontal border of glass on the highest part of the walls, showing him a night sky. There was an idle chatter but the room wasn’t much less quiet than the halls. </p><p> </p><p>A young woman looked up from what she was typing at the center desk, right at him. The look became a squint, right at the mark on his cheek. Quietly excusing herself from the people typing beside her, she walked right up to him, glancing over her shoulder a few times. When she was a few feet away, she had to crane her head up to meet his eyes. The woman spoke hardly louder than a whisper.</p><p> </p><p>“Have you just gotten up?” she asked him.</p><p> </p><p>Unsure of his ability to speak, Theodore nodded his head. </p><p> </p><p>“No one’s spoken to you since you got up?”</p><p> </p><p>He nodded again. She sighed, relaxing her shoulders.</p><p> </p><p>Once again, the young woman looked behind her. Giving Theodore a once over, she beckoned him to follow with her hand and shot down an adjacent hall. Though he thought he wouldn’t be able to keep her pace, he pushed his feet hard against the cold tiles, following blindly. <em> It’s too quiet for a hospital, </em> the man thought, <em> even at night. </em></p><p> </p><p>“So, did it work?” The woman asked, her pace becoming more difficult to match.</p><p> </p><p>His voice was groggy, still little more than a rasp, but he croaked a response, “Did <em> what </em>work?”</p><p> </p><p>She shook her head with a sigh, “What’s your name?”.</p><p> </p><p>“Theodore,” he paused- not to recall, but to debate sharing his full name. He decided it didn’t matter, and said, “Theodore Carter.”</p><p> </p><p>“Damn.” She said with a chuckle, some exasperation in her tone. Theodore raised his eyebrows but said nothing.</p><p> </p><p>Escaping his notice, Theodore turned many corners and even climbed a few flights of stairs. His weariness from sleeping was nearly gone, yet the pain in his neck and back persisted. He had a feeling the pain would get worse; the pain felt dull, perhaps numbed from his sleep or the IV’s he’d been stuck with. </p><p> </p><p>Suddenly, he was alone. It wasn’t until after the women held a door open for him and didn’t follow that he realized he hadn’t gotten her name and hardly looked at her face enough to recognize it.</p><p> </p><p>Wherever he was supposed to be must have been self-explanatory, so he walked straight forward. A short corridor, double doors, another hall, and finally one single door remained ahead. This area was different from the rest of the hospital- the doors weren’t the patient-room doors with round windows, but sturdy ones of solid, dark wood.</p><p> </p><p>“Come in.” called a voice from within the door ahead. Theodore flinched back. He hadn’t knocked, and the door had no window. Yet, there was no one else the voice could’ve been referring to, as he was alone in the small vestibule. He placed his clammy hand on the door and entered, with no expectations whatsoever.</p><p> </p><p>Theodore opened the door to a small office with no natural light. At his first glance, he noted it was painfully organized- every filing cabinet and tabletop and bookshelf perfectly aligned. The room had the same painful brightness as the rest of the hospital and the same ice-cold tiles.</p><p> </p><p>Sitting at the desk was the owner of the voice who called him- a middle-aged woman in a white lab coat. Her light, pink hair was tied behind her head, two dainty strands fell symmetrically on either side of her temple. When she turned to him he caught her eyes; a deep purple, and her stern face. She looked him up and down and smiled like an artist who had just completed a great painting.</p><p> </p><p>“What is your name?” she asked, pride dripping from each syllable she pronounced.</p><p> </p><p>He shifted his weight between his feet, his stomach turning again, “Theodore Carter. Why?”</p><p> </p><p><em> Why? </em>It was a great question, and he couldn’t figure out why he waited so long to ask it.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sure that’s one of the many questions you have. Sit, Theodore, I have plenty to tell you.” </p><p> </p><p>Though her words should have been reassuring, his uneasiness returned. He sat down across from her, crossing his long legs at the ankles.</p><p> </p><p>“My name is Magnolia. I’m the director of this facility. You’ve been part of a very important study that I have a feeling has worked flawlessly,” she said.</p><p> </p><p>“What kind of study?” he asked. That was a stupid question, and he was distantly aware of that. In the few seconds after he spoke he had already thought of tons of much better questions. <em> Why am I really here? What day is it? When did I agree to this study? What the fuck is going on? </em></p><p> </p><p>“The first of its kind. I’m sure you’re wondering how you survived the events before your arrival here, but you didn’t.”</p><p> </p><p>“I <em> didn’t </em>?” He said, and stood up only to flinch at a twinge of pain in his-</p><p> </p><p>“It’s your back, yes?” Magnolia sighed,  “the result of the Annex procedure, I’m afraid. Your particular case didn’t allow for the pain killers normally given after the implant wing surger-.”</p><p> </p><p>“Implant <em> what? </em>”</p><p> </p><p>“Your wings, child. You’ve been revived as a fairy in a ground-breaking study- you are the first of your kind to retain your human memories after transitioning between species.”</p><p> </p><p>Theodore took steps backward, bumping into his chair and tripping, his now-green eyes blinking rapidly. His body was moving on its own. So he was…  dead? And then revived as one of them, wings and all. <em> Wings </em>. Despite his best efforts to slow them, memories ate away at his consciousness, blinding him. The images were slowed enough now for him to recognize. Her long, brown hair brushed his arm. Her hand cupped his face. Her voice said something indiscernible in his ear. And her wings- her translucent, gold and green wings- fluttered soundlessly. The only fairy he had ever known. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Aveda. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“It was her…” he whispered and opened his eyes when his back hit the door he entered from, jolting him forward in pain.</p><p> </p><p> He looked up to Magnolia, who hadn’t moved from her seat, “That’s how it works, isn’t it? If a fairy is assigned to me, then…whatever happens to me is because of her. But how could… ?”</p><p>Magnolia sighed and gave a single nod. “That is why you’re here, child. I need your help.”</p><p> </p><p>“My help? I’m fucking <em> dead </em>,” he said, starting with power and ending in fear.</p><p> </p><p>“Come. Sit. I need you to understand what I’m telling you.”</p><p> </p><p>There was nowhere else to go, so he did exactly what she said. He wasn’t here- this wasn’t happening. </p><p> </p><p>“This is important, so I’d like you to stop me when you have questions,” she began and continued when Theodore gave a distant nod, “you are correct about how assignments function. An assignment of a fairy to a human is enacted when a human has strayed from their destined path, and fairies influence their human back to that path. After the fairy acts on their instincts, blindly, to guide the human to their fate, they must depart to their next assignment and-”</p><p> </p><p>“They <em> must </em> depart?” Theodore spoke up.</p><p> </p><p>“It is part of the most basic training that a fairy must not interact with an assignment once it is completed,” Magnolia explained.</p><p> </p><p>Taken aback, Theodore murmured to himself, “Then why… why didn’t she just-”</p><p> </p><p>“Tell you so?”</p><p> </p><p>Theodore snapped his head up to Magnolia, “You know… ?” he said, brows strewed.</p><p> </p><p>“Let me finish explaining this situation, then we will discuss what I know” she asserted. Her stern voice, her folded hands, and her steady eyes; they made him uneasy. It felt wrong to interrupt her. She continued, the steely authority surrounding her and expectation of silence reminding him vaguely of his mother.</p><p> </p><p>“Fairies are not informed of their assignment’s fate, as I am sure you are well aware. But there is another aspect of their assignments that fairies are completely blind to.”</p><p> </p><p>Ringing met Theodore’s ears again. Of course, his heart pounding in his head didn’t help- but he was determined to focus. To understand. He had to look down and close his eyes to give all of his efforts toward comprehending Magnolia’s complicated words.</p><p> </p><p>“It is unheard of to fairies that their human counterparts may be destined for unsavory fates. For example, if a man was destined to come into conflict with someone and become severely injured, and had somehow avoided such a fate; their fairy would unknowingly be setting a man up to be battered.”</p><p> </p><p>“And if they were destined to die,” Theodore said, opening his eyes and looking up at Magnolia. He felt the same tired, vulnerable feeling in his gut that he battled with before he woke up here. Still, he found it in him to listen to her answer</p><p> </p><p>“Then the presence of that fairy would contribute to their death. Such is the silent plague of the fae. Their ignorance of the harm they do. That is why I need you, Theodore. With the abilities of a fairy and the experiences of a maligned human, there is no one better suited to inform the public and prevent this cycle from continuing. You’ll be a symbol, and help bring change.”</p><p> </p><p>“You need me to… to what, exactly? I don’t- <em> agh! </em> ” the scar in his back twitched with pain, searing in two lines carved down his back. In reflex he slammed a fist down onto the desk and caused a rattle, grunting at the strange liquid agony he’d never felt before. No experience prepared Theodore for what he was feeling at that moment. There was confusion, plenty of it; what had been done to him, what Magnolia intended for him. Fear at the foreignness of it all, the uncertainty. A part of him held sorrow, still- the part of him that remembered every single minute of his life. There was too much- too much pain, too much information, too much talking, and too many memories. Helplessly he felt himself spiraling, the same sinking feeling in his gut as his last waking day. But most of all, or at least at the surface, was boiling rage he’d never felt. Theodore wanted to <em> rest. </em> He lived his life chained to the shore and survived being drowned day after day by the tide in the hopes of being free, only to be shoved back under the moment he caught his breath. He wanted to rest more than anything. He wanted to <em> sleep </em>. </p><p> </p><p>And Magnolia had woken him up the second he shut his eyes.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m not supposed to be alive,” he said through his teeth, gritted in pain, in anger, “if my fate was to die <em> you should’ve fucking left it that way </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>“I know this is a lot to take in-” Magnolia started.</p><p> </p><p>“A lot to take in?” Theodore gave a dry chuckle, “what am I supposed to do? Become a fucking prophet?”</p><p> </p><p>“Something like that, yes.” </p><p> </p><p>Despite the screaming protest in his back, he straightened his posture and looked her in the eyes. She was completely serious. This woman had taken him in, revived him as a different <em> species, </em> and given him a job to do. His fists and jaw were still clenched, whether in anger or in pain he couldn’t decipher. The memories wafted through Theodore’s mind again. Kind words, a soft smile, and a betrayal that cost him his life. <em> Aveda. </em> What Magnolia described was a revolution, one that would prevent others from lives of heartbreak, years of torment. All set to be held upon his back. </p><p> </p><p>“Why me?” </p><p> </p><p>“You’re the best suited to lead, Theodore. You’ve faced the issue with the Catalogue first hand- you’ve seen how blind they are, how ignorant to their influence, and how they can destroy lives without realizing it. I don’t need a born fairy to <em> tell </em> people about this. I need your story to <em> show </em> them.”</p><p> </p><p>Closing his eyes and giving himself the illusion of rest, Theodore weighed each word in his mind and ran a hand through his now white hair. This was going to be a lot of work. He couldn’t say he fully understood yet why Magnolia had gone through the trouble of reviving someone who clearly wasn’t interested in life, but here he was, at a strange hospital in an unknown place at an unknown time, surrounded by nothing familiar. No matter how much he wished he could say his revival had come with altruism and he wanted to help others avoid fates like his own- that wasn’t his goal. At that moment at least, he had a different reason; </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> What else am I supposed to do? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>When he opened his mouth to speak he felt a new sensation- of course, another pain- a prickling burn where he saw the scar on his cheek, and a similar feeling scattered spots around his body. Where he felt the pain he noticed more of the charcoal black scarring- a scratchy patch on his hand, a few on his back and torso, his arms and legs. He shook his head, hoping to rattle his brain in his skull. <em> Think. </em></p><p> </p><p>“Okay,” Theodore started, talking more to himself than Magnolia, “Okay. I’m not human anymore. That's the fault of a fairy. This happens to other people... and that’s because of- you called it the Catalogue. You want me to… to…” his voice faltered- he was seeing flashing light behind his eyes, “I have to stop this system, the Catalogue- the way that people are assigned. Because it kills people. Because it killed me.”</p><p> </p><p>Aggressive lights flashed behind Theodore’s eyes like a storm warning, “Why didn’t you pick someone else they killed? I didn’t want this- <em> agh! </em> ” his vision was flickering, slowly becoming more white than reality, and he seethed, “ <em> what the fuck did you do to me? </em>”</p><p> </p><p>Still poised, unmoved by Theodore’s words or condition, Magnolia answered, “As I predicted, you’ve been revived with quite a rare trait,” she watched Theodore tighten his jaw and squeeze his eyes shut as the lights plagued his eyes, “few natural-born fairies are born with clairvoyance, but you are the first revival with their human memories are intact, and that overlap is the cause for what you are experiencing now.”</p><p> </p><p>Somewhere down a long, collapsed tunnel, Theodore heard what Magnolia was telling him. But he wasn’t in the room anymore. The white behind his eyes had faded into a different room- an office, with workers and desks and chairs. A foreign face was handing him a folder. He heard diegetic sounds from the vision but they didn’t quite sync. In this vision, he was standing, but he still felt Magnolia’s chair under him and felt the thickness of the air in this windowless room. </p><p> </p><p>As soon as the vision came, it was gone. Theodore wasn’t sure when it got so hard to breathe, but he was panting, and when he swallowed his throat was bone dry. Another change- his black scars stopped hurting. It wasn’t until the pain left that he realized how heavy a toll it took on him, and as Theodore didn’t have the strength, or the vigor, or the will to protest, he let Magnolia speak over his heavy breaths.</p><p> </p><p>“A vision, yes? Interesting,” she paused to pick up a pen and write something down. </p><p> </p><p>Theodore felt like he’d been hit by a truck. It was far too much; the pain, the visions, the scars, the overload of information he was trying to process all at once. Maybe his life had been so difficult because he had to make every choice alone. Maybe it’d be nice to have someone instruct him. To go limp and let someone else in the driver’s seat.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll do it. Whatever <em> it </em> is, I’ll do it.”</p><p><br/>Magnolia nodded, her smile sinister enough to twist its way into Theodore’s gut. “Good. I’ve set up an apartment for you. Your first… shall we say, <em> assignment </em>, is tomorrow night.”</p>
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